Jack Tame: Reaching the point of physical limitations

When you’re young you can’t imagine a point in your life when you’re living with physical limitations.  

I mean, sure, maybe you’re not as strong as you’d like to be. Maybe you’re not quite as quick and fit as some of your mates. But for me at least, the thought of a relatively straightforward physical action being too difficult or too painful never even crossed my mind. You take health and dexterity, mobility, and general limberness for granted.   

I remember Dad getting home from his football games when I was kid. He’d limp through the front door, strap ice packs to both of knees, and splay himself out on the couch, still in his grubby kit. When you’re a kid, you can see your dad’s in pain, but you never pause to wonder if that might happen to you, one day, too.    

A couple of years ago I couldn’t get past a sharp pain in my left hip. I thought I’d pulled a muscle, and I went to the physio for the first time in my life. But a series of scans moved me quickly up food chain. Physio-sports doctor-surgeon. One of the specialists said I had the hip of someone in their sixties, and it was probably only a matter of time before I’d have to get a new one. In the meantime, the best advice they could give me was don’t do stuff that hurts. 

Truthfully, I’ve found that harder than it sounds. Although I haven’t played a single game of squash in at least a couple of years, a weekly game of very average social football has been the most consistent social activity in my life. You know what they say about men and how they have to be doing stuff together? Well, guilty as charged. I don’t want to just sit around and talk about stuff, I want to be kicking a ball! I’m convinced there’s something about physically competing, albeit in a lowly social league, that does an awful lot of good for the top few inches.  

What it doesn’t do is much good for my hip. I turn like a waning container ship at the best of times, but the short-twitch reactions required in midfield have not been aided by my swiftly decaying cartilage. I picture it, rotting away like a paper bag in a puddle. Halfway through last year I started proactively taking painkillers before games. Sometimes I struggle to walk normally for days afterwards.   

I know this isn’t good. I know I shouldn’t play. I know, rationally, that constantly agitating and inflaming the same injury is going to cause more problems down the track. And if sometime in the future I can’t tramp or ride my bike, I’d be furious with myself. But quitting football has felt like a threshold. I’ve never had an injury that didn’t improve. I’ve never not been able to play something.  

Then last week, I faced a reckoning. I visited a primary school, and the kids encouraged me to sit with them on the mat and pose for a photo. You know how these things go... Crossing your legs and sitting on the mat is the kind of thing you give zero notice to. Until one day you can’t do it. It was agony. I folded myself down as best I could and yet in the photo, I don’t even get halfway to the ground. My butt’s on the ground but my knees are up at nipple height. I look like a capital X.   

When I finished at the school there was a text waiting. Who’s in for football next season? Most of the guys quickly replied, ‘Yep, keen.’  

When you’re young most of us don’t imagine a point in life living with physical limitations. We didn’t ask when Dad started wincing when he reached for his shoelaces. We didn’t question why Grandma shuffles.   

And then one day it begins. You have to start saying no. 

See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:07):
You're listening to the Saturday Morning with Jack Team podcast
from News Talks a'd be.

Speaker 2 (00:12):
You know how, when you're young, you sort of can't
imagine a point in your life when you're living with
physical limitations, you know, Like, I mean, sure, maybe you're
not as strong as you'd like to be, maybe you're
not quite as quick or fit as some of your mates.
But for me, at least, the thought of a relatively

(00:34):
straightforward physical action being too difficult or too painful just
never cross my mind. You sort of, you know how,
when you're young, you sort of take health and dexterity
and mobility general kind of limberness. You just take it
for granted, right. I remember as a kid dad getting

(00:56):
home from his football games. He would limp through the
front door. He would strap ice packs to both of
his knees and kind of splay himself out on the couch,
still in his grubby kit. And when you're a kid,
you can see that your dad's in pain, right, you
can rationalize that, but you never pause to wonder if
that might happen to you one day too. I couldn't

(01:18):
get past this. It's kind of sharp pain in my
left hip, I thought at first that I'd pulled a muscle,
and I went to the physio for what was the
first time in my life, but a series of scans
moved me quickly up the food chain, physio to sports
doctor to surgeon. One of the specialists said I had

(01:38):
the hip of someone in their sixties and it was
probably only a matter of time before I'd have to
get a new one. In the meantime, the best advice
they could give me was don't do stuff that hurts. Truthfully,
I've found that harder than it sounds. Although I haven't
played a single game of squash in at least a
couple of years now, a weekly game of very average

(02:01):
social football has been the most consistent social activity in
my life. And you know what they say about men
and how men just have to be doing stuff together, Well, honestly,
guilty is charged. I don't want to just sit around
and talk about stuff, talk about my feelings. I want
to be kicking something. I want to be kicking a ball.

(02:22):
And I'm convinced there is something about physically competing, albeit
in a lowly social league, that does an awful lot
of good for the top few inches. What it doesn't
do is much good for my hip. I turn like
a waning container ship at the best of times, but
the short twitch reactions required in midfield have not been

(02:44):
aided by my swiftly decaying cartilage. I picture it rotting
away like a paper bag and a puddle. Halfway through
last year, I started proactively taking painkillers before and after games.
Sometimes I struggle to walk normally for days afterwards. And look,
I know this isn't good, right. I know that I

(03:05):
shouldn't play. I know rationally that constantly agitating and inflaming
the same injury is going to cause me more problems
down the track. And if sometime in the future I
can't tramp or ride my bike or sleep without feeling pain,
I'll be furious with myself. But I don't know. Quitting

(03:27):
football has felt like a threshold. I've never had an
injury that didn't improve in my life. I've never not
been able to play something before. And then last week
I faced a reckoning. I visited a primary school and
the kids encouraged me to sit with them on the
mat and pose for a photo. It was all like

(03:47):
totally innocent enough, and you know how these things go,
you're sort of crossing your legs and sitting on the mat. Well,
it's usually the kind of thing that you give zero
notice to. You don't think about it until one day
you can't do it. Honestly, it was agony. I kind
of folded myself down as best I could, and yet
in the I don't even get halfway to the ground.

(04:10):
My butt is on the ground, but my knees are
up at nipple height. I look like a capital X.
When I finished at the school, there was a text
waiting on my phone, who's in for football next season?
And most of the guys quickly replied, yep, ken yep, yep, yep,
I'm in two. When you're young, most of us don't

(04:30):
imagine a point in life living with physical limitations. We
never asked when Dad started wincing as he reached for
his shoelaces. We didn't question why Grandma shuffles so much.
And then one day it begins. One day it starts.
You have to start saying no.

Speaker 1 (04:52):
For more from Saturday Morning with Jack Tame, listen live
to News Talks B from nine am Saturday, or follow
the podcast on iHeartRadio.